A Mummy for Christmas. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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dough.
“Muffins!” Travis said in frustration. “The girls wanted them, and we didn’t have any boxed mix. But we had blueberries, so I got out the cookbook and decided to make ‘em from scratch.”
Holly checked out the recipe, which looked fine. She looked at the ingredients spread out on the counter, spotting a familiar yellow box, but no can. “Did you use baking soda or baking powder?” she asked.
Travis hesitated.
Realizing how rarely he looked uncertain about anything, she smiled.
“There’s a difference?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. Holly moved closer and kept her voice low as she instructed, “Show me what you used.”
He handed her the baking soda.
She peered into his cupboards, which were as familiar as her own, and pulled out a small red can. “This is baking powder. This is the leavening agent you put in cakes and muffins to make them rise.”
“Oh.” He went to back to check the muffins, which were looking sicker and paler and more rubbery by the moment. “So now what?” He scowled, considering, then turned back to face her, his arm nudging hers in the process.
Warmth filtered through her at the brief, accidental contact.
While she savored the sensation, Travis concentrated on the mistake he had made and the dilemma at hand. “Do you think it would help if we sprinkled some baking powder on top of the muffins or stirred some in?”
Holly shook her head, sorry to deliver the bad news. “Not at this point in the baking process.”
“Daddy, we’re hungry!” Sophie declared.
“Are the muffins ready?” Mia asked, looking hopeful, hungry and excited all at the same time. “Tucker and Tristan want some muffins, too!”
He shrugged. “Well…?”
Holly took the oven mitt from him, reached past him, hit the off button on the control panel and took the muffin pan from the oven. “Get your shoes on, kids!” she instructed.
Travis read her mind and went to get jackets for all. “We’re going out for breakfast today!” he announced cheerfully.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Holly and Travis were seated at a hard plastic table, enjoying their premium coffees and apple Danish pastries, while the kids—who had downed their own breakfasts in record time—climbed on the indoor playground. “You see, for every culinary disaster there’s a silver lining,” Holly teased.
Travis exhaled in frustration, still a little embarrassed by the mistake that had brought them here. He shook his head wryly. “I really thought I had it this time.”
She reached over and gave him a friendly pat on the arm. “You almost did,” she told him with a smile.
Travis shot her a level look. “If I built buildings the way I follow recipes,” he acknowledged dryly, “I’d be in big trouble.”
Holly held up a slender hand, cutting off his self-deprecating remarks. “You’re a very capable man.” She paused and wrinkled her nose at him playfully. “You just can’t cook anything that doesn’t come out of a box or a jar or a plastic bag.”
Travis waved at the kids, who were peeking through a mesh safety barrier at them, then turned back to Holly. “You do it with aplomb. So do a lot of other single parents—men included. My friend Jack, for instance, is an excellent cook. Jack’s daughter loves his cooking, the more gourmet the better.”
Holly’s eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. She leveled him with a look of her own. “First of all, it’s not a competition, between you or me and you and Jack or anyone else, okay? You parent in your own way, just as I do, and furthermore—” a self-conscious pink crept into her cheeks “—you’re a fantastic dad.”
Looking at her determined expression, Travis could believe it. Still, he didn’t like falling short in any category, and that went double when it came to anything pertaining to his kids. “Maybe I should take some cooking lessons,” he murmured.
“You really want to do that?” Holly looked surprised.
A little irked that in some ways she knew so little about him, and what made him tick, Travis tapped the center of his chest and countered, “What? Are you worried I’ll flunk out of the class or something?”
“No. Of course not. I just didn’t think you’d have time for something like that right now, with the holidays and the Trinity River Place project. And isn’t there something else you fellows are bidding on?”
Travis nodded. “A steering committee was just formed by some of the city’s leading philanthropists. They want to build a new opera hall if the funds can be raised, and we want to be ready if the project comes to fruition.” He paused. “And speaking of business, what’s on your schedule for the next two weeks, now that you’ve finished the restaurant mural?”
“Next week I’m doing murals for three exam rooms in a new pediatrician’s office. And a nursery mural for Grady and Alexis’s new baby after that, although I’m still waiting for Alexis to okay the design. We’re supposed to meet at her office next week.”
“You sound busy, too.”
Seemingly as reluctant to break up the cozy tête-à-tête as he was, Holly glanced at her watch. “Which is why we better get a move on if we want to get both our Christmas trees up and decorated today.”
SIX HOURS LATER, THE trees were up and twinkling in both their family rooms. Dinner and dishes were over. It was breaking up the four kids that was proving to be the problem.
“I don’t want to go back to our house, Daddy,” Sophie said with a pout.
“Me, either.” Mia stamped her foot. “I want to stay here with Tucker and Tristan and Holly.”
“You all need baths and pajamas,” Holly decreed.
“Why can’t they take their baths here?” Tucker asked.
“Yeah, they’ve done it before, plenty of times,” Tristan argued.
Holly looked at Travis. He, too, seemed to be wondering if this was a battle worth fighting. Suddenly, wordlessly, they were in agreement. “Okay,” he told the four kids. “You all can have your baths here, but they’re going to be quick ones tonight.”
“And then we get to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas together like you promised!” Sophie reminded him.
They had promised, Holly recalled. Hours ago. When they’d had no idea how long it would actually take to do all they had done.
Travis lifted his hands in surrender. A promise was a promise…
“Okay.” Holly relented, too. She and Travis exchanged empathetic looks before she continued. “And then everyone is going to go to sleep in their own beds.”
“Are we going to get new Christmas pajamas this year?” Tucker asked, once all four kids were back downstairs again, getting settled on the sectional sofa.
“Yeah, ones that match!” Tristan said.
“Of course,” Holly replied. That was one wish that was easily granted.
Travis looked at her with a question in his dark eyes. “It’s a family tradition,” she explained. “The kids get new pajamas on Christmas Eve and wear them to open their presents Christmas morning.”
“Well, we want to do that, too,” Mia said.
“Yeah, and we want ours to look just like Tucker’s and Tristan’s,” Sophie added.
Holly had no earthly idea what to say to that. For one thing, boys’ and girls’ pajamas were usually quite different in color and style. And Travis’s daughters favored pink!